Obsessed

Threes. I count my steps in threes as though I'm waltzing through the halls. I tap in threes, think in threes. On particularly bad days, I speak in threes.
There are two-hundred ninety-three lockers in the band room and instrument storage room, not including those used by orchestra students. Two-hundred seventy-one marbles in my collection. I know because I counted them. Three times. And then I spent hours covering every inch of my arm in the number. I didn't get much sleep that night.
The world is a strange place. Black and white mean nothing; everything is painted in shades of grey. I don't know what's right and what's wrong. I only know that I'm afraid.